


Lost Without You

by FrazzledDragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur literally can't function without Merlin, F/F, M/M, Memory Loss, Morgwen (is that their shipname idek) is no longer mostly implied, REAL ANGSTY, VERY Evil!Uther, but justified gwen, evil!Gwen, idk - Freeform, in the show he's just awful, in this he's like REALLY awful, kinda canon compliant?, uther is like incredibly terrible in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrazzledDragon/pseuds/FrazzledDragon
Summary: Morgana has finally won. Arthur has no more tricks up his sleeve. His body fails him. Merlin has been missing for seven years. Gwen, tired of Arthur's pining and tired of his failure to love her like he promised, has defected to Morgana's side. His knights have grown sloppy and no longer fight for him like they used to.Morgana's wrath may be her doom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey
> 
> so no one asked for this but here it is
> 
> i wouldn't hold my breath on a chapter two my dudes
> 
> sorry D: *shrug*

King Arthur sits wearily on the throne, his hair streaked with grey and eyes ringed with wrinkles and bags. He has only seen twenty six winters, and yet he looks to have seen at least seventy. A deep frown, made deeper by his sagging skin, creases his face as he watches his knights get thrown from their feet, knocked unconscious and their weapons strewn messily to the side. His knights always benefited by training with him, but as he had grown more frail, they had slowly fallen behind. They are little better than the wartime recruits now, even Sir Leon.

He watches as Morgana, still young but winters senior in her eyes, strides up to the dais, her eyes blazing and her smile victorious. Gwen, once his wife and now his enemy, stands proudly at her side, her own eyes burning. He had once loved her, and her him. But, with Uther’s last act, he had slowly lost her too. 

“Dear brother!” Morgana croons, mockingly bowing before him. “Time has not been kind to you. You have aged faster than a rotting corpse. Where’s your pet?”

Arthur refuses to respond, knowing his throne, and Camelot would soon be lost to her. His last act of defiance would be to be silent. Instead, he glares at her, wishing his strength and power he had had mere winters before would return.

Morgana’s fake smile drops. “Where’s Merlin?” she growls. “He’s the only one who can stop me now. Where is he?”

Arthur feels his rage fill his veins at the mention of his name, but still says nothing.

Gwen speaks up now, her words dripping with venom. “He doesn’t know. Uther took him before he died and did something with him. And Arthur can’t seem to get over his loss. It’s why his kingdom was so easy to seize. He’s obsessed with finding a servant that his father had killed years ago. A servant with magic who never followed the rules and was always certain he knew what was right.” It breaks Arthur’s heart a little; Gwen had loved Merlin, too, once.

“Really?” Morgana’s smile is back as she giggles maniacally. “That scumbag Uther did as scumbags do and betrayed those who love them, and as a result, Arthur lost Merlin? That’s what broke him? That’s the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

Arthur growls, but hates himself for it.

“He’s just a measly servant, Arthur! You’re old and crotchety because our father put protections in place to keep you from finding your useless, waste of air, pet?”

Arthur’s glare takes on a new level of heat and hatred, but still he says nothing.

“He always such the hypocrite, wasn’t he? Using magic to make you, then banning magic because all magic was evil? Using magic to protect magic and himself. Then executing the people who used magic to do his bidding in town square. He is the most ruthless, useless kind of trash, truly. He worked so hard to keep magic away from his kingdom, but let it slip through the cracks regardless.”

Arthur doesn’t move, hardly breathes. His hands, gripping his sword, shake.

“Ooh… You must really hate him if you let me say such things about him. He really struck a nerve with that mangy farm rat, hmm? Did Uther destroy him because you loved him or because he had magic? It must have been magic - you’ve always been easy enough to manipulate and Uther was ever so good at manipulation. Magic, however, is inexcusable. Murder, rape, violence, deviancy: these are all excusable, embraceable flaws. But magic? Beautiful, powerful, fair magic? Now that is punishable by whatever Uther can dream up next.

“What did he do, Arthur? Did he cuff Merlin with magic-repellent cuffs and drag him, kicking and screaming before the court? Did he burn Merlin’s family and friends to the ground, ensuring Merlin had no one else to turn to? Did he torture Merlin into confessing, did he make you revoke Merlin and command him to obey Uther’s every whim, only to save his life? Did he torture Merlin in every way he knew you’d hate and then make him disappear, before you could say goodbye? Did Uther die and never tell you where Merlin was or how to find him? Has the guilt sat with you every day, knowing deep down, you let Uther destroy the one person who would never betray you, your one true ally in this war? Does it still sting every time I bring up his name? Is it the truth when I say Merlin means more to you than Gwen ever did or ever will?”

Arthur gasps as she finishes, tears slipping down his cheeks. Gwen must have recounted those cursed weeks when Uther took Merlin from him to Morgana, because she is right with every question. And gods, it still hurts to remember. To think about all the ways he failed Merlin, how every day he failed to find the man was another day he was at fault. 

He meets Gwen’s gaze, not looking for mercy or forgiveness. She deserves the truth. “I loved Gwen. Just not the way I promised her I would. Not the way she deserved.” He sees the anger and the pain and betrayal in her eyes, but also the appreciation for his honesty. The understanding. He failed at his vows, failed to be a good husband, but at least he acknowledged it. It is all she could ask for now. If he were to proclaim his everlasting love for her here, there would be no way she’d believe it anyway.

“Is that an excuse?!” Morgana screeches, and Arthur’s rage finally breaks free.

“No!” He bellows, the strength it takes to do so immediately taking its toll as he sags back on the throne. “I have no excuse. Only the truth, however disappointing it may be.”

Morgana’s eyes narrow, but with a look at Gwen, she relaxes again. “Denounce the crown and proclaim me your heir, Arthur Pendragon, and I will spare your life.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow as well. Gods, he’s exhausted. “No, you won’t. You’ll kill me as soon as you have the throne. As long as I’m alive, your position is in danger and you’re not stupid enough to leave weaknesses open like that.”

Morgana laughs, her eyes bright and confident. “You’re right, of course. It’s nice to know you haven’t completely lost your mind.” She stalks around behind him, checking the throne for dust. Arthur grits his teeth. He knows it’s another stab at Merlin, and he wants to drive his sword through her to the hilt for it, but he can keep his cool. There’s always the chance Morgana might know of Merlin’s fate, and he can’t risk burning that bridge more than it already has. “How did you come to look so haggard? You’re no older than I, but you could be my grandfather.”

“I thought you would know,” he grumbles, his hands falling from the hilt of the sword. He doesn’t have the strength to wield it anyway. “I thought it was your work.”

Morgana smirks, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Oh brother, so presumptuous. I had nothing to do with it. However, it does present an interesting conundrum of a third party. Someone else has played their hand for the fate of Camelot. I should rather like to meet them. No one has come forward to claim their handiwork?”

Arthur shakes his head. His bones ache and his muscles tremble at the prospect of moving again. He almost wishes Morgana would kill him now, make the pain stop. Gods, he’s tired of hurting.

“Perhaps Merlin cursed you for abandoning him when he needed you most,” Morgana purrs, kicking his sword away from him. “Perhaps Uther broke and twisted him into your worst nightmare.”

“My worst nightmare?” Arthur chuckles darkly, his eyes stone-cold with rage. “You think Merlin cursing me is my worst nightmare? That is merely an unpleasant, but not unreasonable thought. My worst nightmare has already come to pass. Merlin is gone, Camelot has fallen, my body fails me, and my weapon is out of reach. My friends have become my foes, and I am abandoned with whatever few scraps of my dignity remain to rot before your wretched feet. I have no hope of rescue, no chance of success, no dream of waking up in my bed in a world where things are not hopeless. There is nothing more that you could take from me now.”

Morgana’s face twists with a crooked smile and her eyes darken. “Oh brother, there is so much left to take. Gwen?”

“Yes, my Queen?”

Morgana smiles at the title, snatching the crown daintily from Arthur’s head. “Is there any reason to believe Merlin is dead?”

“Other than the fact that Arthur has searched incessantly for him for seven years and failed to find him? Exhausted every resource, searched under every rock and uprooted every tree to bring him back to him?” Gwen’s voice is laden with doubt, but Arthur senses she doubts Morgana less.

“Yes.”

“No, my Queen.”

“Then we’re going to find him and show my dear brother just how much he has to lose.”

Arthur growls, but the prospect of seeing Merlin again, even once, is enough to spark hope back into his heart. “How very presumptuous of you, sister,” he rasps, his heart racing. “Where can you look that I cannot? What can you see that I’ve not already seen?”

Morgana grins. “Dearest brother. Sometimes, I wonder who died and made you king.”

“I’d like to see you do better as Queen.”

Morgana seizes the throne, tossing Arthur in the deepest cell of the dungeon, with three times the number of guards. Arthur doesn’t know where she got the guards, doesn’t know what she did with his knights. Frankly, he doesn’t care. 

He can’t sleep because his body aches and because, even if he could entice sleep to his pile of hay, his thoughts would not let sleep take him. There is so much blood on his hands, so many lives lost because of his incompetence. His health is failing faster than ever and there is nothing he can do to stop it.

He has only one visitor a day, a servant he recognizes from the kitchen staff that would bring him one bread roll and one apple. Weight is falling off of him, but he’s used to the pain. 

Morgana comes to visit him three weeks after throwing him in the cell.

“Brother, I see you’re still aging. Before you ask, I have not found your pet.”

Some of his hope dies.

“I’m here to see if I can reverse this curse of yours. I’d hate for you to die before I kill you.” In her hands, there’s a goblet. She holds in under his nose to sniff. “Just wine,” she purrs.

“Might as well kill me now,” Arthur rasps, sipping at the wine. “There’s no use waiting.”

“Oh, dear brother, that will come in time. First, we have to locate Merlin. Once that’s done, then we can kill you.”

“Merlin won’t even care.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. It’ll make it all the sweeter when I carve his heart out in front of you.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. He can’t even find it in his heart to care. Merlin is dead. Has been for years, but Arthur couldn’t admit it to himself. “Is that all you came here to say?”

Morgana raises an eyebrow. “I also came to tell you we’ve traced the first of Uther’s steps of when he took Merlin. We’re getting close.”

“Great,” he sighs. Even breathing is exhausting and painful. “I wish you luck. I doubt I’ll make it through the night, much less your spells. Then you can kill him and he’ll join me in whatever afterlife awaits the likes of us.”

Morgana’s eyes narrow. “That would be a cruel twist of fate, for your death to be torn from my hands by an unknown enemy. Tell me what you know of this curse.”

“Started after Merlin was taken. Figured my father made a deal with a magician before he died to have me cursed, so I wouldn’t immediately find Merlin. Then, he forgot he needed the curse removed later, and killed the magician. Seems like something Uther would do.”

“I’m going to try a simple curse-breaking spell. Try not to clench your muscles.”

Arthur’s gaze bores into her as she mutters a series of sounds, her eyes glowing gold. He feels the spell wash over him, but nothing more. His joints still ache and breathing is still difficult. He’s still so tired.

She frowns. She tries another spell.

And another, and another, and another, all without results. 

With a growl of frustration, she leaves. Arthur had long since fallen asleep where he sat and didn’t notice her absence.

The next day, she brings a variety of potions. Her mood is different today, more contemplative. “I should thank you for alienating Gwen. She has proved a valiant and loyal ally, and a more than competent adviser.”

“She is the best woman I’ve ever known,” Arthur murmurs between vials.

“I make fun of the way you’ve ruled since our father’s death, but I respect your decisions.” Her voice is plain and honest; deception does not twist her words today. “Your repeal of the ban on magic was… commendable. Your attempts to right our father’s wrongs, admirable. Your embracing of the druids, notable.”

“Don’t tell me you’re considering  _ not _ killing me,” he groans wearily. 

She snorts. “Don’t be absurd. You’ll die by my hand, and I will take pleasure in killing you, but you should know it’s not for the way you’ve ruled Camelot. It will be for the other crimes you’ve committed, the failures you could not avoid, the ways you’ve been a thorn in my side for decades. It will be for the way you failed Gwen, the way you sided with Merlin. It will be because you did not kill Uther Pendragon, when he committed the most heinous crime against you possible. When he took your one true love, the only thing in your life that you valued, and you did nothing to stop him.”

Arthur doesn’t have the energy to nod, so he blinks. He’s aged more in the past three days than he did in the past three years. “I could kill myself for far less than that,” he mutters and he means it. Suicide is seeming less and less absurd by the day. There is nothing holding him here. He has nothing and no one left. His knights had not reached out to him, so he could only assume they were dead. He is weak and weary and broken and ashamed.

Death seems a welcome break.

Morgana’s eyes flash. “If you kill yourself, death itself will quake from my wrath.”

Arthur’s gaze is steady. “If I kill myself, not even you will be able to bring me back. There will be no magic, no bargain you could strike with nature that would pry me back from that place. I will be as lost to you as my servant is to me.”

The siblings stare at each other for a long moment, before Morgana raises another vial to Arthur’s lips and he downs it.

They empty all the vials, without even a hint of success.

Morgana is careful to clean up all the vials, ensuring he would not have one shard of glass to make use of.

It is several days before Morgana visits him again, this time accompanied by a gaggle of guards. “Brother dearest!” She twitters, practically prancing. 

Arthur’s stomach drops and he forces his eyes open.

“You’ll never guess who I found!”

“Father Christmas,” Arthur whispers.

“I found Merlin!” She grins, her eyes cruel once again.

“Liar,” he breathes, eyes falling shut again. He can’t prop them open anymore.

He can hear her flinch. “Drag him to the cell.”

The guards are rough and uncaring, and they bang him up pretty terribly as they drag him up the stairs and into the new cell. When they drop him, he manages to pull himself into a sitting position. The guards go over to another huddled form on the ground, pulling the hood and gag off of him. Arthur would recognize him anywhere. He doesn’t watch the guards leave them, Morgana whistling cheerfully as she walks away.

“Merlin?” he asks, his voice breaking with a huge grin on his face. His eyes are welling with tears. Even his joints seem to celebrate this moment by not aching as much.

Merlin’s head whips around and he jumps back. “Who are you? Why do people keep calling me that? Where am I? Why did you take me here?”

Arthur’s grin falters. “You don’t remember.” Some hopeful thing flying inside him crashes to the bottom of his soul.

Merlin blinks. “Remember what?”

“Do you know who King Arthur was? The house of Pendragon?”

Merlin blinks again. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“The kingdom of Camelot?”

Recognition flickers in his eyes. “My neighbor mentioned something about them once. Said they had a half-decent king for the first time in decades. Something about repealing the ban on magic.”

“Do you have magic, then?” Arthur asks gently. The last thing he’d want is for his last interaction with Merlin to be unpleasant.

Merlin snorts. “Of course not. I’m not special. I’m just an ordinary farmer. My landlady says it’s my destiny to farm.”

“Do you enjoy it? Farming?”

“It’s a helluva job,” Merlin sighs, smiling softly. “But yes. It’s rewarding. Being able to see the fruits of your labor spread out on the fields, glistening in the sun.” Merlin’s gaze drifts to Arthur, and that smile turns to a frown. “Is your face… What…”

Arthur looks down at his hands, alarmed to find they’re… changing? The baggy, flimsy skin is tightening and revitalizing. His muscle mass is returning. He shifts, and for once, his body doesn’t scream in agony at the movement.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur says truthfully. “Does your memory have any gaps?”

Merlin frowns. “That’s an odd sort of question.”

“It would be less odd if you were in my shoes.”  
“What’s your name?” Merlin asks suddenly. “You think you know mine and I’ve been talking to you like you’re right, but you have yet to mention your own.’

“I’m King Arthur Pendragon, the rightful ruler of Camelot, the last in my line.”

“Then who dragged me here?”

“My sister and usurper, Morgana.”

“Oh. That’s unfortunate...”

“Indeed.”

“Gaps in my memory…” Merlin says, seemingly anxious to get off the subject. “The main one that comes to mind is I have  _ no _ clue how I got these scars.” He peels up his top, revealing a muscled but heavily scarred torso. Arthur recognizes knife wounds, whiplashes, even a few fingernail claw marks.

His breath catches and more tears well in his eyes. He knows exactly how Merlin got those scars. “Oh,” he manages, reaching a tentative hand out to feel them. Merlin seems to freeze, but lets Arthur’s warm fingers brush against them.

Both men shiver.

The moment passes. “Any more gaps?”

“I don’t really remember my parents,” he admits with a shrug. “Apparently, they were so uninfluential that I completely forgot about them.”

Arthur’s heart hurts. The Merlin he knew would have done anything and everything to save his mom. He’s beginning to realize that the Merlin he knew is long buried under this new and less Merlin-y Merlin. Probably the result of magic, it occurs to him. One spell and everything that made Merlin, Merlin was carved out and replaced with this new character that Arthur neither knew nor particularly wanted.

“What is your name, if Merlin isn’t it?” Arthur asks, trying to cope with the fact that Merlin was, in fact, dead, in many ways.

“Emrys, your highness,” Merlin - no, Emrys - jokes. “I don’t have a last name. It was the one thing I could remember when I woke up from my accident.”

“Accident?” Arthur’s heart stops.

“Yeah… A few years back, I… I guess I lost a lot of my memories. I was working with a horse and it kicked me out of nowhere. Knocked me out and everything.” He shakes his head ruefully, shrugging again. “My landlady told me everything she knew about me and my life, because I couldn’t remember any of it.”

“Do you remember the horse that knocked you out? What color was it?”

“I don’t remember. My landlady said they killed it once they realized what had done, so I never saw it after my accident.”

“How long were you out?”

Emrys frowns. “Maybe a couple hours?”

“Did you see them burying or burning it?”

“No. I had a pretty severe concussion, so I didn’t get up for a while.”

“Would they have buried it or burned it?”

Again, Emrys frowns. “I guess they would have burned it, because all the land around town is for crops.”

“Did you smell it burning?”

“No.”

“Then how can you be sure? Why do you trust that landlady?”

“I… I don’t know? What else are you supposed to do when you wake up with amnesia? You have to lean on someone and she seemed to be the only one who cared. I could have meandered around for years and never found a solid clue as to who I was! I woke up in a dirty, old barn with nothing but the clothes off my back! Not all of us have the advantage of wealth and privilege to get us through hardships! She was kind to me, so I trusted her! I still trust her!”

Arthur almost cries with how  _ Merlin _ he sounds. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to upset you. Emrys… this sounds insane, but I believe you to be a friend I lost many years ago. His name was Merlin. I cared...  _ very  _ deeply for him. I’m not expecting you to suddenly become the person I knew, because I suspect you’re a person all your own now and I recognize you for you who you are now, but please be patient with me. You cannot imagine how very disorienting and heartbreaking this is for me.”

Emrys frowns. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I don’t know you.”

“You know nothing for sure.”

Emrys looks like he wants to be mad for a brief moment, but then shrugs. “Fair point, I suppose. Can’t very well argue that. Who was I to you, then? I must have been more than a simple friend for you to miss me so deeply. Did you know me - like, really know me?”

Arthur smiles nostalgically as the memories flood his mind. “You came to Camelot when I was eighteen, barely eighteen yourself. You came from a little village called Ealdor, where you lived with your mother. On the first day you arrived, you started making trouble, taunting me, starting fights. I deserved it - I was definitely being a prat, but you were fearless in a way I’d never known. You didn’t care I was the prince of Camelot, only that I had the potential to be good and I was wasting it. Within a week of arriving, you saved my life in front of my father. As a reward, though you’d argue it was more of a punishment, you became my manservant.

“You were a klutz and rather rude sometimes, always a little strange, but you were bright and feisty and you never gave up. You always smiled, always joked. It was… nice, to have someone so real by my side. You were the most loyal servant I had ever had. You made me laugh. Within a month, I almost died for you and unbeknownst to me at the time, you had saved my life an infinite number of times in more ways than I could ever list.”

“Sounds like we had quite the dangerous little friendship,” Emrys says softly, his eyes warm. “You… You really liked me, then.”

“You were unlike anyone I had ever met. You always spoke your mind, protected your friends at any cost, and… you were unapologetically your own person.” It’s then that Arthur notices the ascot around Emrys’ neck. “For example, you never once took off that damn ascot. In all the years I knew you, I don’t think I ever saw your neck bare.”

Emrys fingers the cloth. “It just felt natural to wear it.”

Arthur’s smile grows. “Sounds about right. Amnesia can take away everything you know, but not your damn fashion sense.”

“It makes a statement!” Emrys scoffs with dignity, but grins as Arthur rolls his eyes.

“I rolled my eyes more with you than anyone else I ever knew. But, despite how frustrating your antics could be sometimes, I couldn’t bear to part with you. Your mother’s village was getting harassed once, and I wasn’t allowed to help. My father forbade it, since Ealdor wasn’t technically in Camelot. But… I couldn’t just leave you. You weren’t very good with a sword, and… you weren’t sure you’d make it back. That thought… I went to help you. My father was  _ very _ upset about it, but… I couldn’t abandon you.

“We were never very good about expressing our feelings, but I tried to show you how much I cared for you and I think you did the same. I loved you, though, before I had the words to express it, before I knew what love really was. You… your soul just… fit with mine. You kept me honest, kept me real, made sure I had good days to accompany the bad. You made sure I never felt alone, that I always had hope for tomorrow. Some of the scariest moments in my life were ones you were in danger and I couldn’t help you.”

“When did this change? What happened? Why did you lose me?”

Arthur freezes, tears slipping down his cheeks. “You have magic, Emrys. My father was a hypocrite who hated magic. He found out, and I fought for you. I never disobeyed and disrespected him like I did when he took you. He tortured you. Burned your village to ashes, killed the villagers, tortured you some more. I tried  _ everything _ to save you, but… I couldn’t kill my father... I wasn’t brave enough. He promised he wouldn’t kill you if I gave you to him to be his slave. He tortured you in ways he knew I couldn’t stand and then, one day… You vanished.”

Emrys’ frown grows as he bites his lip. Tears are forming in his eyes. He has no recollection of these events, but he can feel the emotions triggering in his heart. If he doubted Arthur before, he doesn’t now. Even if his mind doesn’t remember this, his heart does.

“I… I searched everywhere for you. I looked non-stop. My wife left me because I tried so hard to find you, she felt I had abandoned her. And I had. I couldn’t be without you. This stupid curse set in, and everything fell apart. I kept berating myself because even then, I could not kill my father. He took you away… He broke my heart… He killed any trust or love I had for him, and still… Still, I did nothing that meant anything in the end.”

Emrys wipes his tears away. “I presume that’s where they hit me hard over the head and dumped me in a barn, paying some random lady to build a life for me, so I’d never go looking. So I’d never wonder, never find you again.”

Arthur simply shrugs, tears streaming down his cheeks, his voice gravelly. “I don’t know. It’s been years since I last saw you. I don’t know where you’ve been, or how long it took them to place you in that barn.”

“I don’t blame you, Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur’s heart breaks and heals all at once. He tries to stifle a sob.

“This wasn’t your fault. And despite what you think, I believe you did everything you could. You are a good man. I’m sure you made a good king, too. I’m… sorry I don’t remember this, but if it makes this any easier, I believe you.” Emrys wraps him in his arms as Arthur sobs horribly. “I believe you.”

“Morgana’s going to kill us both,” Arthur murmurs into Emrys’ chest.

“What did  _ I  _ do to piss her off?” Emrys sounds unsurprised. 

“I believe you poisoned her, among other things,” he croaks.

“She probably deserved it,” Emrys shrugs. Once again, Arthur is struck by how  _ Merlin _ the expression is. “When is she going to kill us?”

“I don’t know. Probably once she believes we’re close again. She really wants me to hurt before I die, and watching you die is the only way she sees fit for a king like me.”

Emrys nods. “So, what I’m hearing is, this magic thing you say I have is the only hope we’ve got.”

Arthur shrugs. “Probably. Morgana thinks you’re the only thing standing in her way.” His heart is pounding. He had no idea Emrys would be so… Merliny, without even knowing who he was before.

“Any chance you could teach me?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not always what they seem. The masks people hide behind are rarely their true face.
> 
> Basically, some Morgwen content with another sprinkling of Merthur XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey
> 
> so validation is the fuel for every fire (literally the only reason i was able to summon up the inspiration to write this is because yall left such lovely comments on the first chapter so sincerely thank you all so much for that this is a gift for you)
> 
> so here's chapter two i guess
> 
> this story isn't really going how i planned but the characters kind took the reins and ran off so i'm just going with it XD

“Any chance you could teach me?”

Arthur chokes. “You want me to teach you magic?” The universe had to be playing some kind of elaborate prank, punishing him for not accepting Merlin’s talents sooner.

“Yes?”

Arthur sighs. “I have no earthly clue, but I can tell you what I know. You were worried about telling me you had magic, so for the first several years you knew me, you didn’t say a word. My father was a hateful being and you didn’t want to risk your life on the hope that that rage, that prejudice didn’t get passed down.”

“So how did I tell you?” Emrys seemed intrigued beyond simply getting out of this bind, and seemed to genuinely want to know more about their relationship.

“You picked the middle of a battle, actually. It was either show me your magic or us both die. You got so red. You cried. I think I cried too. You were so scared…”

“How did I tell you?”

“You… You made a shield of wind for us. It was impenetrable. It allowed me to regain my footing and you your sword, so we could take on our attackers. Afterward, since we thought no one had seen, we talked. You were so tired of lying, and worried I would report you to my father. Of course, I didn’t. I loved you far too much for that. But one of my knights told him what he’d seen and it all went downhill from there.”

“Shit…” Emrys swears, his eyes dark. “How did I make the shield of wind? Not that’s a particularly helpful magic here, but it might help me remember.”

“I don’t know,” Arthur mumbles, thinking. “Your eyes just… flashed gold and it appeared around us. I didn’t hear you say anything.”

Emrys frowns. “That’s really not a good sign. It sounds like it was really natural for me, which means it probably wasn’t taught.”

Arthur nods. “You also have to take into consideration that I don’t have magic. I have no idea what it feels like to wield magic. I can tell you what it feels like when someone emanates magic, and I can tell you what you looked like when you used it, but I have no idea how to actually produce constructs or anything.”

“What did I look like? You probably know who I used to be better than anyone else alive today. What was I feeling? What was doing with my body?”

Arthur tries to remember. “You looked you’re most relaxed when you wielded magic, no matter where you were. It looked right on you. And you were so powerful. You radiated energy and strength. When you cast that shield, it felt like I was sleeping and I just woke up. Everything in me and around us seemed to come alive by your touch. I was no longer fatigued, no longer out of breath. It’s like Mother Nature herself wanted to answer your call, as well as your every whim. It was… incredible. And you looked stunning.

I only saw you use the magic the one time, but it told me all I needed to know about magic. When your eyes flashed gold, your whole body seemed to tremble with power, but stayed relaxed all the same. The sky and earth was yours to command, and you used it to protect me.” Arthur’s voice cracked here, and Emrys’ hand finds its way to his arm in comfort. Arthur almost startles at the contact, before relaxing again. “I’d suggest,” he continues, his voice clear again, “that you try to find the most basic calm within you. For you, magic was never an extension of who you were or part of the person you were, it  _ was _ you, intrinsically and wholly. It’s why you were so scared of my judgement, because I wouldn’t be judging part of you, I’d be judging all of you.”

“Okay.”

“You really liked to project little blue butterflies, make of light. He showed me when we were talking. Maybe, you can try that?”

Emrys nods, before closing his eyes. His body relaxes, his breathing slows.

Gwen hustles around the room, trying to hide her discomfort from Morgana. It’s not her fault she’s uncomfortable, after all, and she has plenty of her own problems to contend with. Ruling Camelot is harder now than it used to be, and it didn’t used to be easy. 

“Gwen, what troubles you?” Morgana’s voice, clear of its mask of deception and trickery, floats over to her.

“Nothing, my Queen,” she calls, dusting the same dresser for the fifth time. She never really got used to others doing her chores for her as Queen, so it honestly does make her feel better to dust. At her core, she has always loved to help others. She still feels her best when she’s actively helping, even if it conveniently also works as a distraction.

“That might’ve worked on your ex-husband, but it’s not going to work on me. Come, sit with me.”

Gwen looks up, her cheeks reddening a little as she realizes Morgana is sat comfortably on Arthur’s bed, her dress forgotten for slacks and a comfortable tunic. She’s scanning over a piece of parchment, running her hands through her hair. Gwen has never understood how Morgana can look stunning in every and any clothing she dons. Then Morgana looks up at her and she squeaks, nervously shuffling over to the side of the bed.

Morgana smiles warmly at her. “Gwen, you know you don’t have to use titles when we’re alone. You are no longer my servant, and have never been my lesser. Here, we are equals. You are my adviser and my friend.”

Gwen smiles back, though weakly and rather unconvincingly.

“Now tell me, what troubles you?”

She bites her lip, anxiously meeting Morgana’s eyes. She doesn’t want to seem weak - Morgana is honestly the strongest person she’s ever known. “I guess… I guess it’s just disorienting for me, being back here. Staying in the castle, sleeping in this bed. Knowing he’s down in the dungeons…”

“It wasn’t long ago you swore you’d never come back,” Morgana muses gently, her smile gone. Blindly, her hand seeks Gwen’s and finds it, squeezing. “You’ve handled it all quite gracefully. If I didn’t know you as I do, I might never have noticed you weren’t content.”

“I never… I never properly thanked you, Morgana…” The thought has been tumbling around her head for weeks, and as the beginning comes tumbling out of her mouth, she guesses now is an okay time. “When… When I left, I was blind with rage and heartbreak and fear, and I… I didn’t mean to seek you out… I didn’t mean to impose… We didn’t leave on the best of terms… I just… I didn’t...”

“Gwen.” Morgana’s voice has command in it now, and Gwen quiets and looks at her as though she ordered it aloud. “Yes, your coming was…  _ unexpected _ , but you brought with you a plethora of gifts that I could never have turned down.”

Gwen frowned, her mind going to all the secrets and information she had given freely to Morgana. They would have softened the wrongs she committed in their friendship, but they wouldn’t have healed things. Morgana has a long memory - surely she hadn’t forgotten?

“Your first gift was your presence. I don’t suppose you know this, but it heals those around you. You made me smile within a week of arriving, and truly laugh within two. I thought I was too broken and hurt to ever truly laugh again. You gave me loyalty. Undying, unbought,  _ real _ loyalty. You gave me companionship. I thought I had lost every real friend I would ever have. You gave me love. You showed me you cared for me, despite everything. You took away my loneliness and played a huge part in handing my dream to me. Even when it made you uncomfortable, even when you weren’t sure you could do it, you did it. For me. I have no delusions about what it took for you to be able to stand in front of him by my side, what it felt like for you to throw him in a cell. Your strength was a gift as well. You strengthen me. These gifts are not something I take for granted and not something I had ever expected to be given. 

You strengthen me, so I  _ know  _ when something’s wrong. Are… Are you worried about the executions?”

Gwen, her eyes filling with tears, both at Morgana’s speech and the truth she is about to reveal, nods. “I… I don’t know if I can watch them die.” A sob crawls up her throat, and Morgana shifts to face her, her hand landing softly on her cheek. “I loved them both, once. Merlin… Merlin did nothing wrong… I… I just blamed him for everything because I couldn’t… I couldn’t handle it.”

Morgana nods. “Would it make you feel better to hear I have my doubts as well?”

Gwen looks up in alarm. Morgana’s thumb wipes away a tear.

“When I overtook the kingdom before, the people were unwilling to follow me. The knights resisted, and generally were a pain in my ass. I’ve been considering a second option. A more… peaceful option. Arthur is a lovestruck fool when it comes to Merlin. He just wants Merlin. I’m thinking that I could talk him into giving the kingdom over to me freely, assuring the kingdom he really doesn’t want the throne, and letting them both leave Camelot alive.”

Gwen frowns. “I doubt Arthur would ever consent to that.”

“My first thought was to allow them to continue living in the castle, as puppet Kings, but I don’t think I could stomach that.” A look of unease crosses her features. “I… I don’t… I  _ can’t _ love them as you do. You are so full of unconditional love… I envy that about you. Where my hate strengthens me, your love strengthens you.”

“Maybe we should look more closely at your motivations. You want Camelot. Why?”

Morgana’s eyes light up in surprise, her lips almost curving into a smile. The conviction is back in her voice when she speaks. “Because it is my birthright. Because I have been lied to my entire life and because I know I can do it and do it well.”

“Why do you want to kill Arthur and Merlin?”

“Because he did not fight for me when he knew I was right. Because Merlin did not fight for me when we were on the same side. Because neither of them will apologize for the wrongs they’ve committed. Because Arthur failed to love you like he promised.”

“Why do you hesitate?”

Morgana’s eyes flash, not with gold, but with surprise. “Because of you, Gwen.”

Gwen stutters, her cheeks warming once again. Morgana’s thumb traces another slow path. “What?”

“I have an immense amount of respect for you, Gwen. You are brave, kind, and loyal, but not blindly so. I have no doubt that if I were to wrong you unforgivably, you would not hesitate to leave me. That kind of strength is admirable. I don’t want to alienate you on my path to forgiveness. At one time, it would not have bothered me in the slightest, but now?”

Morgana’s hand drifts lower on Gwen’s face, her thumb coming to drift over Gwen’s lips. Gwen freezes like a statue, her cheeks growing ever hotter.

“You’re… my friend. My best friend. My trusted adviser. My conscience. My heart. I don’t  _ want  _ to wrong you. I’m tired of being lonely. I’m tired of never trusting anyone. I’m  _ tired _ of hurting. You make me hurt less. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Whatever you decide, I won’t leave you,” Gwen mumbles, her lips brushing Morgana’s thumb. “I may not agree, but it won’t tear us apart.”

“I do not take life for granted,” Morgana breathes. “Despite what it may look like, I consider every life I take. I weigh it on my conscience, try to decide if it’s worth the heaviness. Usually, it’s an easy decision. Most of the people I killed weigh as much as feathers on my soul. But this? This isn’t easy.”

Gwen leans forward, pressing her forehead against Morgana’s.

“I can remember when we were kids, you know? Before he knew and before this all went wrong. I can remember before Uther’s blasted lies sunk in and stoked a rage no one could tame inside me. He loved me, you know? When he went to arrest me, there were tears in his eyes. You told me it took him a long time to find a way to cope with the idea of hurting me. I know… I know he’s a good man. Good people are always heavier.

And Merlin? He’s good, too. He’s just loyal to Arthur. I think it may have been jealousy, to see someone so close to me with such loyal friendship. Especially when I lost you. Him poisoning me didn’t help, of course, but I think… I think I was jealous. Merlin didn’t deserve his fate, not really. The kind of weight their deaths will bring me...”

Gwen closes her eyes as the tips of their noses brush. “Then we find another way. You don’t deserve to feel weight or pain or hurt or jealousy ever again. You are good too, Morgana. There’s a reason both Merlin and Arthur struggled to kill you. Even Merlin, who’s vindictive and passionate and self-assured could barely take the weight. You are good. Besides, bad people don’t feel the weight.”

Morgana releases a shaky sigh, her hand snaking out of Gwen’s and landing on her neck instead. “We find another way,” she echoes, her nose slipping and their lips getting closer. “Thanks, Guinevere,” she breathes, her lips finally brushing Gwen’s.

Arthur laughs in delight as a single butterfly flutters around the cell. Emrys looks like he’s struggling but there’s a bright smile on his face regardless, and his whole body shakes. Arthur doesn’t feel the emanance of power like he did all those years ago, but there’s pulses of it there, and the longer the butterfly flutters around, the stronger the pulses get.

Finally, though, the butterfly vanishes, and Emrys flops tiredly to the ground. “So that’s magic…” He mumbles, breathing heavily.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighs, thinking again of the wind shield on the battlefield. “And that’s just a tiny fragment of what you can do. You told me that the druids think you’re the strongest sorcerer to ever live.”

Emrys makes a sound of disbelief, something between a squawk and a squeak. “A tiny fragment?” He repeats. “That was exhausting.”

“Maybe it’s like a muscle?” Arthur tries. He’s trying to make sense of something he’s never really understood and it’s unbelievably difficult. Fate had to be pulling a prank on him.  _ Him _ teach magic to  _ Merlin _ ? He can’t imagine a universe where that’s not hilarious. “You said you used magic every day for every task you could get away with. It was like an extra arm or leg. You used it every day, so perhaps like a muscle, it was strong because of it. Then you spent seven years without ever moving it even once, because you didn’t know you could. Now, it’s weaker.”

Emrys shrugs, sitting back up. “I’d hate to find out what it feels like to get sore.”

Arthur grimaces. “You might have to.”

They practice all night, neither particularly inclined to sleeping, as their execution is getting closer every moment, so when Morgana and Gwen come to their cell early the next morning, they both look worse for wear.

“Merlin, brother,” Morgana greets, her mood unreadable. Gwen stands a half-step behind her, equally stoic. “Gwen and I have a proposition.”

“Don’t tell me you’re considering  _ not  _ killing us?” Arthur says, echoing his statement days earlier, but this time he sounds hopeful.

“Gwen has counseled mercy,” Morgana says simply. “So, we’d like to find a balance. Or we can kill you and move on.”

Arthur watches Gwen for a long moment, seeing how her hand is intertwined with Morgana’s, how her shoulders are thrown back and her mouth is set in a flat line, but neither are done so confidently. Here, Gwen is uncertain. 

“What do you propose?” He asks, his tone surprisingly amenable. The way he sees it, Morgana gave Merlin back to him, or at least gave the person Merlin had become to him. She has earned his ear.

“I want the throne,” Morgana says. “Everything else, I’m rather flexible on.”

Arthur almost raises an eyebrow, because flexible is about the last word that comes to mind when he thinks of Morgana, but he stops himself and glances at Emrys. “So, you’d let us go unharmed if I voluntarily and publicly relinquished the throne?”

Morgana nods once. “That’s one option.”

“I read once about this ruling system called an oligarchy,” Emrys speaks up, surprisingly confident sounding. “It’s where a small group of people, say, four, for example, rule as equals in more of a business relationship. No person has more power than any of the others, and everyone has direct power over one area of the kingdom, like agriculture, foreign relations, army, or legal proceedings. 

I understand that we,” he gestures to himself and Morgana as he continues, “have some rather unfortunate history, but I can’t recall any of it, so I can’t know how you’ll interpret a proposal like this. I do know that you’re both Pendragons, and it’d make the most sense to have both of you ruling Camelot as equals instead of one fighting the other. As long as we make it clear that this was agreed upon without threat, the people would probably be happy. We could accompany the announcement with something that would directly impact them, like lower taxes or something, which would soften the blow and leave a good taste in their mouths.”

Morgana’s eyes flash and Gwen squeezes her hand tighter. “I need time to consider.” And with that, she’s gone. 

Arthur snorts. “Me too,” and he turns to Emrys in surprise. “An oligarchy?”

He shrugs. “She doesn’t want to give up the throne, but the people probably don’t want to give up you. I don’t know how you feel about the throne or much about you really at all, but I can’t imagine you want to give it away. It seemed like an easy fix.”

“Changing forms of government is never easy,” Arthur argues, though he’s not sure why. He suspects it’s because he’s still reeling from Morgana’s willingness to cooperate. Never in a million years did he think she’d offer him a deal he’d survive.

“It’d just be this generation, though. Whichever of you produced a child first would be the heir to the throne, and the Pendragon line would continue to rule Camelot.”

Arthur frowns. “I have no interest in women and Morgana’s a lesbian. How would there be a child?”

Emrys smirks and shrugs. “Adoption?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “I don’t think the first option would be so bad.”

Emrys’ smirk fades and his eyes meet Arthur’s curiously. “Really?”

“I… I wouldn’t find it as hard I used to… giving up the throne. It used to be a matter of pride. A matter of strength. Now?... It doesn’t matter that much any more. I believe Morgana will do right by Camelot. She’s different… Wiser, now. She wants to prove to herself and to our dead father that she can rule. She would do anything to prove that. My duty to Camelot is to ensure it has a powerful ruler on the throne. It has been a couple years since that has been true. Besides, with Gwen acting as her moral compass… I trust them.”

“What would you do?” Emrys asks, clearly intrigued. “Where would you go?”

Arthur smiles. “I don’t know. For me, not knowing what comes next is new. I’ve always known what my every step would be until I died, and even then, I was told what would come next. To not know, to be able to choose… That’s certainly appealing.”

“Would you allow me to come with you?”

Arthur’s mind, which had begun wandering the rolling hills in search of freedom and a new purpose, slams to a halt and backtracks so fast Arthur gets whiplash. “ _ Huh _ ?” He squeaks out, his eyes wide and heart racing.

Emrys shrugs now, his confidence failing. “I… I asked if I could come with you. When you’ve lived with lies as long as I have… I think, somewhere deep inside, I knew that something was wrong? Like, it didn’t feel right, but I loved farming and I liked some of my neighbors, so I just ignored it. But this… this feels right. Someone who knows the truth is refreshing, especially when it’s someone who doesn’t feel wrong to be with. You feel real.”

Arthur gapes for a moment. “Of  _ course _ , you can come with me, Emrys. For now and for all of time. You are more than welcome to accompany me. No matter what we end up agreeing on, no matter where we end up going, you are welcome to come. This will come as a shock to you, I’m sure, but you are one of the only friends I’ve got.”

Emrys grins. “Thanks, Arthur.”


End file.
